


should have known better

by justrunamok



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Choking, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Dry Humping, Edgeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Praise Kink, Somnophilia, but you're the dom, shit these tags make me shy, things escalate ahsbdjs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27468838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justrunamok/pseuds/justrunamok
Summary: he had it coming.
Relationships: Horacio Carrillo/Female Reader, Horacio Carrillo/Reader, Horacio Carrillo/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	should have known better

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first feral okay, no one touch me.

It started off as one of those miracle days, the type that came when God looked down and thought, _they’ve had a few shitty years, let’s cut them some slack._

Horacio had been given a day off from whatever upper brass that existed, allowing him to actually spend a Sunday with you. When he came home with the news last week, you pulled back from the embrace he had wrapped you in and tilted up to look at him. It was past midnight and you were bleary with sleep and incredulity.

Squinting suspiciously, you said, ”Do not joke with me, _mi amor_. It’s too late for this.”

The resulting laugh was felt rather than heard, rumbling through Horacio’s chest as he gazed down at you, something soft in his eyes.

“I’m not lying, _carino_. This Sunday, I’m all yours.” Leaning down, he rested his forehead against yours, his arms a comforting brace by your back as he murmured his words.

And so you had spent the rest of your week giddily planning for Sunday. Should you take him on a road trip? Horacio’s work at Search Bloc hadn’t left him much time to travel narco-free. Or maybe a movie? The last show you saw together was when you were first dating, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

In the end, you decided on a late morning- _Horacio never slept in_ \- and a simple dinner at his favourite place, a cozy little hole-in-the-wall with staff that knew you on first-name basis and had your order memorized. You wanted that Sunday to be lazy and warm and perfect. With how chaotic his life was, you thought it cruel to subject Horacio to an exhausting outing on the _one_ day he was given a reprieve.

On Saturday, Horacio arrived home hours before dawn with a tired descent to the line of his shoulders but a wide smile, the indents of his cheeks causing your heart to stutter in its usually rhythmic thumps. Leaving his files on the table, he stood before you as you sat perched on his side of the bed, your thighs spreading wide to allow him space between them.

He bent down and curled a palm, roughened by the nature of his work, over your cheek, a thumb stroking the rise of your cheekbone as his lips met yours. The kiss was a tender thing, firm and unyielding yet soft and grateful. You could taste your dreams when he kissed you, the visions of how you would reach old age together vibrant in your mind.

The morning passes blissfully uninterrupted, with you waking up to the sun casting a soft hue over your room and a deliciously warm heat enveloping your core. You could feel how Horacio smirked against your drenched slit at the sound of your sleepy whines, catapulted from the dark of sleep and straight into the throes of lust.

No one would blame you for the way you fisted at his soft hair, or the seemingly uncontrollable jerk of your hips as the reverberations of Horacio’s groans shot through you. Mouthing at your clit, dark brown eyes flicked upwards to savour the flush of your skin and the tensing of your neck as you arched upwards beautifully, mindless at his behest.

A finger dipping teasingly between your folds, he whispers, voice husky with want,”You are wonderful like this. I want you to come again for me, _carino_.” His warm breath is torturous against your soft flesh as you struggle to make sense of the word _again._

You feel a shudder wrack through you at his words, scrambling to envision him laving your sleeping form with attention, his fingers working into you. The moan passing through your lips becomes a half-formed creature as he pulls your legs over his shoulders, his hands reaching up to soothe your hips. Keeping his eyes on the tensed lines of your body, he parts your folds with his tongue, gifting you with slow, darting motions that have you wailing his name.

Laying a palm on the soft flesh of your mound, his thumb that had so lovingly caressed your face the night before, now pressed harshly into your clit, as he breathes out, “Come for me, _carino_.”

The throbbing ache in your core spreads to every part of your body, leaving you trembling helplessly as Horacio’s tongue laps softly, humming his satisfaction into you. The slight shaking of your muscles goes on for what feels like forever, trapping you between the haze of your climax and the unrelenting warmth of his mouth.

You feel the bed dip as Horacio rises up your lax body, forearms bracketing your shoulders as he kisses your cheek gently, slowly making his way up to your forehead with a smile.

“Good morning, _mi amor,”_ he said, slick lips just a breath away from yours.

A laugh that was more of an exhalation of air leaves you before you reply, “Good morning. How are you on this lovely day?”

You raise a hand to the back of his neck, carding through Horacio’s closely-cropped hair as you leave kisses of your own against the sharp edge of his jaw.

“I am just fine, my sweet,” He lets out a soft moan at the thought of you tasting your own arousal, eyes fluttering shut in contentment. “But you joining me for a shower would make this morning perfect.” 

After a very long shower that leaves your back raw from the smooth tiles, the two of you putter around the kitchen as you make breakfast while Horacio puts on his coffee and your tea. 

It takes him longer than usual, what with his eyes constantly working their way back to you, appreciating how you look in his button-up and and your shorts as you flip eggs for _cayeye_.

When he finally sets the mugs on the wooden table, he simply stands and watches you, dimples threatening to disarm you if you turned as well.

Feeling the heat of his gaze, you call out softly, “I do hope you’re enjoying the view, _colonel_.”

The muffled pads of his feet precede the feeling of his chest flush at the line of your back as he presses his hips into the curve of your ass.

“Say that one more time, and we’ll be ordering our breakfast, _mi amor_ ,” he whispers hotly into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Empty threats bore me, _colonel_. You should know better,” you challenge, pushing back against him and luxuriating in the knowledge of how you make him feel.

And well, needless to say, breakfast was ordered.

The both of you manage to make it to the restaurant Horacio loved, after what was a successfully lazy and warm day in. Carmela practically crows in delight at the sight of you two stepping through her door, wiping her hands down on her pale, pink apron before bustling over to you with a bright smile, ushering you to a table at the back of the restaurant.

There was a reason this place was Horacio’s favourite, with its’ soft, yellow light fixtures illuminating the timbered room, casting the restaurant’s patrons in a warm glow. It was one of those eateries that was frequented by long-time friends and couples, young and old, all looking to spend a quiet night with their people. The unspoken rule was to keep conversation at a low hum, allowing everyone their own capacity to enjoy the food and company.

You had excused yourself to the restroom just as your dessert arrived, pointing a warning finger at Horacio to stay away from your portion of the cake.

Carmela is at the door when you finish washing your hands, the forced smile on her usually candid face alarming you.

“ _Estas bien_ , Carmela?” your voice soft as you approach her, palms faced outwards in comfort.

You glance down to see her wringing her weathered hands before she answers, “ _Si, mija_. I apologize, I don’t think you should return to your table just yet.”

Confusion marring your forehead, you look over her shoulder.

You see Horacio, unsure of himself, as a lady, beautiful in the loud way you had always admired other women for, slides a slip of paper into the pocket of his dress shirt, his hesitance visible in the faint flutter of his fingertips against the tablecloth. 

There’s a bitter taste in your throat, tar-like in its viscosity as you watch the woman- _how smug was that smile_ \- saunter away, sliding her hand across his shoulder as she went.

You keep your strides even as you head back to the table, forcing the frown off your face as you sit down. The tar is in your chest by now, so hot you feel like your very lungs are aflame. Your husband divests secrets for a living, and so the blank canvas of your face is enough for him to realize you saw it all.

You feel his thoughts wafting in the car, you hear it in the way his mouth opens and a single syllable drops before it’s cut off and you see it in how he flicks his eyes towards you repeatedly, trying to gauge your stony expression.

“I did n-“ His defense starts strong, but tapers off into weighted silence when you shake your head, wordlessly telling him that you did not want to hear it.

“ _Mi amor_ , I-” he tries, a hand releasing the wheel to reach for you before you stop him.

“Quiet, Horacio.”

There is an audible snap as his jaw shuts, knuckles turning white over the wheel. The silence hangs over the both of you until you reach home.

As you slowly pull off the heels you had worn for the night, he stands behind you, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself. 

This man, so powerful in the office, a terror to the rats on the street, stuttering over how to conduct himself when propositioned by a pretty lady in a dress. 

Oh, you _burned._

With your back still turned, you bark out your command, the thick rage bubbling under your skin, “Bedroom. Now.”

That same dark part of you leaps at the soft hitch in his breath before he retreats, his body operating in hurried, jerky movements, anxious to appease you.

He’s standing before the bed when you come in, his form militant as he holds his arms behind his back, feet spread the width of his shoulders. Such a good soldier.

Dark, brown eyes, wide with anticipation, lock onto you the moment you step through the door, breaking what was a perfect stance. That fucking uncertainty was still there, edging the corners of his gaze.

A drop of sweat trickles down his temple and the side of his face, drawing your attention to the flush blooming at his collar.

“You disappointed me tonight, _colonel_ ,” You let the words fall carelessly from your mouth as you watch how tension seizes Horacio’s frame, an imperceptible shudder running through the hard lines of his body.

His chest rises and falls with a harsh exhalation of air before he pleads, “I’m sorry, _mi amor_. I did not-”

Your voice snaps coldly in the air as you retort, “ _Mi amor_? Who do you think you are, Carrillo?” He fails to stop the crumbling of his face at the pure derision in your tone. “Address me accordingly, or I will be cruel, _colonel._ ”

His head angles down slightly as he remedies his mistake, “Yes, ma'am. I apologize.”

“Your pretty words are nothing to me. I want your safe word, I will stop for no less.” Your face is impassive as you speak, he does not deserve anything from you yet.

Horacio keeps his gaze on the floor, the words tumbling out of him as if he had no control over them, “ _Cayeye_ , ma'am.”

Humming noncommittally, you step closer, observing how his eyes snap up when he realizes how near you are. The hesitance is gone now, of course it is. 

He knows indecisiveness displeases you, especially when it comes to your relationship. Yet, the image of his tentative expression as you watched him from the back of Carmela’s restaurant almost makes you snarl.

You fold away the rage, letting in simmer in the cells of your body. He will know by the end of tonight just how insulted you are. 

“I have rules for you, _colonel_. You will follow them or you will suffer until morning, make no mistake.” Delight sings through you at his frantic nod, a smirk twisting your face as you continue, “You will not touch me without my permission. You will not come without my permission. _Lo entiendes, colonel_?”

The flush has spread to his cheeks now, the tan of his skin dark with it. 

“ _Si, senora_.” he breathes out, the whispery tone a far cry from his usual commanding timbre. His eyes are on you again. 

Good.

Your fingers rise to unbutton his shirt, moving with purpose as you place fleeting kisses to every reveal of olive skin. The grey shirt falls open as your lips reach the metal of Horacio’s belt and you move to kneel, reveling in how he trembles.

He trembles beautifully, the muscles in his lower abdomen contracting at the touch of your breath. There is desperation in his eyes as he looks down at you, a whine torn from his throat as your lips tease at the jut of his hip.

You pull away at the half-formed sound and ask, an eyebrow raised disbelievingly,“ What was that, _colonel_?”

He stiffens and scrambles to redeem himself, “Nothing, ma'am.”

“I’d hate to think that you were being impatient, soldier. How unbecoming.“ you murmur, fingers dancing of the leather belt.

You watch him fight to answer, mouth falling open as you trace a single finger over the bulge in his pants, gifting him with no more than feather-light pressure. His arms remain clenched behind his back as you touch him, running your finger slowly from the top of his cock to the press of his balls, warm and heavy through the fabric.

The telling bob of his Adam’s apple broadcasts how hard he is trying to control himself and reel in the sounds that would otherwise have fallen freely from his lips. Such a good soldier, behaving so well for you. You voice your praise and glory in the relief that swims in his eyes as his chin drops to his chest.

You palm him harshly as a reward, the sudden grip of your hand ripping a tortured gasp from Horacio as he hunches forward. Feeling benevolent, you decide to not reprimand him for his lapse in control as your free hand strokes his thigh.

Rising to your feet, your palm unforgiving against his cock, you lick a line up the side of his neck with your tongue, wanting to see if the flush had a taste. He was musky in your mouth, the memory of his cologne peppered with the salt of his sweat. 

"Take off your pants, and sit on the bed, _colonel_.” you say, the words barely out of your mouth before he fumbles to unbuckle the clasp of his belt and shove his pants down to pool at his bare feet. 

You keep your eyes on him as he lowers himself onto the bed, clad only in black boxers, his posture impeccable as it should be, his thighs slightly parted and his hands resting on his knees. 

For a moment, you just stare, raking your gaze over him, drinking in the solid column of his neck that widens into the broad set of his shoulders. You notice how a shudder runs through the planes of his chest as he waits for you to finish your silent appraisal of his body. 

It was heady, this power you wielded.

You move forward, walking into the gap between his thighs as you order, “Lie back for me, soldier.”

He complies instantly, the air thick with his anticipation, punctuated only by his soft huffs of breath, the slow movements of his chest tantalizing. 

You climb over him, taking care to not touch Horacio’s exposed skin as you kneel above him, your roles reversed now with his hips between _your_ thighs. _God, the flush was everywhere._

“Now, I have a test for you. I’m going to spend a _long_ time taking my pleasure from you, colonel. And if you move- _just an inch_ \- I will leave you here.” Panic flashes across his face at the notion of being abandoned, eager as he was to do as you bid. 

“Can you do that for me? Hmm? Lay still as I take what I want?” you inquire, the steel in your tone making it obvious that there was only one acceptable response. 

There it was again, that hurried nod of his head as Horacio finds himself incapable of giving a verbal affirmation, a smile blooming on your face as you realize what you’ve done.

Colonel Horacio Carrillo is speechless.

Lost for words in front of you as you make your demands, his voice reduced to a hard lump at the base of his throat. 

Speechless, save for a string of broken groans when you grind down on him, trapping his cock between the restraint of his boxers and the cruel drag of your hips. You plant your palms on his chest, leaning down to look at him.

His pupils were blown wide, the brown of his irises all but gone as his mouth hangs open prettily. You are merciless in your test of his control, the slow press of your core changing into rough slams against his cock without warning as you wrench pitiful sounds from his very core.

Pleased with how determined he is at staying still, you let yourself go, releasing your own moans as you chase the high, uncaring at how Horacio’s groans turn into whimpers as he watches you. The fabric of your dress and his boxers rub against your clit as you feel the heat in your stomach intensifying.

“You’re being so good for me, soldier.” You say softly, your own words stuttering as you grind down harder, smiling down at him as he whimpers at your praise, the sound beseeching you for more.

Wanting him to feel the searing heat of your folds as you reach your peak, you raise the skirt of your dress and tug his boxers down, Horacio raising his hips blindly as he works out your intention. The thickness of him is heavenly against you as you grasp his jaw, forcing him to see how you throw your head back in pleasure, not even bothering to lift yourself anymore, just dragging your core back and forth along his cock.

“Would you have been good for her too? Would you have let her do this to you, fuck you into the bed as well as I do?” you ask, breathy as the edges of your vision start to haze, your body taut.

The wrecked _no, ma’am_ you hear from below you is what does it, sinks its hooks into you and _pulls_ , a single drawn-out scream as you shake with the sheer intensity of your climax. You continue to rock against Horacio as you curl over the trembling man, opening your eyes to see the strained expression on his face.

“P-please, ma’am. _Ah_ , I need to-“ he rasps, the crease between his eyebrows deepening when you deny him.

Resting your weight against him, you watch the bones at his temple clench as your slick drips out of you and onto his throbbing length and positively _beam_ at the mangled sound you elicit.

“Shush now, _colonel_. You haven’t earned it yet.” You say, saccharine sweet as you roll your hips into his once more before you take pity and allow him his first kiss of the night.

More kisses follow as you continue plundering Horacio’s body, having come so many times you’ve lost count. You relish in how needy he is, wanting so desperately to touch you, to come, only to be denied again and again.

You’ve surprised yourself with the ways you had so creatively used him, drenching his face with your come as you instruct him to pleasure you with only his mouth, and then again, but with his tongue too. At one point, you had your climax against his thigh, your own thigh pressed against his length, feeling the thrum of his heart as you moaned into his throat. 

When his wails had gotten dangerously loud, you pulled yourself off him, laying down beside him and plunging three fingers into your heat as he watched, enraptured.

He is all flush now, the entirety of his frame slippery with his sweat, if not your slick. His lips are bruised and his chest is littered with your bites. He writhes freely, fists clenched in the sheets. You haven’t allowed his hands on you yet, your own special brand of torture, given how tactile he usually was.

Gasping with your most recent orgasm, you turn to him and ask, ”How are you, soldier?”

You think it’s beautiful, the pleading whine he responds with as you straddle him once more, coherency far too huge a feat for him. The way his back arches up when you run the pads of your fingers down the ridges of his chest is exquisite, the involuntary buck of his hips when you sit on his thighs leaving you hot.

“I’m so happy with you. You’ve given me so much tonight, followed every instruction,” you croon, slotting your leg between his to push your knee gently against his balls, rewarding you with a lilted _ah._

Caging him with your knees, you curl a hand around Horacio’s neck and pull him to you, his hands scrabbling at his sides as he gasps at the new position and squeezes his eyes shut. You tap a finger against his cheek, a wordless order to open his eyes just as you sink down onto his cock.

You take him in, your walls clenching when the hard length of him fills you entirely, sparks of pleasure going off behind your eyelids. Content to just stay put, you let Horacio’s song of want wash over you, the whines being sung into your sternum barely resembling words.

“What is it now, soldier?” you question, feeling so very full.

A full-body shudder wracks through him before he can get his plea out,”Pl-please, ma’am, can I touch you, please? Please, I’ll be- _ah_ , I’ll be so good, _”_ he lurches forward, jostling you as the tightening of your heat around him stops his train of thought.

You hear him sob into your collarbone when you deprive him, yet again.

“Soon. Be a good soldier for just a little while longer,” You punctuate your sentence by rising on your knees until only the tip of him is in you, bracing your palms on his shoulders before you slam down.

He _keens_ into your throat as you repeat your movements, the rough slaps of your hips obscene. You grip the back of his head in what must be a painful pull of his hair, baring his neck as you cover his skin with open-mouthed kisses and words of adoration that have him meeting you thrust for thrust.

He moans his plea for mercy to the ceiling as you lay waste to his neck and shoulders, begging to touch you in jumbled sentences. Honestly, it was just a long string of _please, please, please._

“Look how pretty you are, soldier, begging for more while I fuck you. Do you want to touch me? Hmm?” you taunt, your voice astonishingly even as you drag Horacio’s face towards yours. White-hot pleasure lances through your spine at a particularly hard smack of your hips, the black spots in the corners of your eyes a tell-tale sign of your peak fast approaching.

You snarl and tighten your grip on his hair when he nods, his eyes watering at the sensation of your free hand flying up to his throat as you demand, ”I will have your words, _colonel_.”

Horacio lets out a miserable cry as he tries to form the words between the slams of your hips. You are almost at your peak when he finally implores, “Yes, ma’am, please. I want t-to touch you.”

“Good soldier,” you hum, guiding one of his hands to your lower stomach, pressing his palm against the skin as he sobs in relief.

His forearm wraps around your back to grip at your opposite shoulder as the other feels the act of your fucking. He kisses at the side of your breast, sloppy with how far gone he is, before latching onto a nipple, sucking it into his mouth, whining when you change the movement of your hips into slow glides.

The gentle warmth of your climax takes you by surprise, a small, sweet thing, the edge blunt from the hours you spent with Horacio. You ride it out as fractured sounds filter through your ears. He’s close, his moans pitching high into the wails that always preceded his own release.

You tuck the v of your thumb and index finger under his chin before you muse, “If I say come, will you do it instantly, soldier?”

His eyelashes flutter at the implication of your words, “Yes, ma’am.”

Pressing your fingers into the sides of his neck, you raise your hips one last time before bringing your lips to his ear as you command, ”Come, _colonel_.”

You drive yourself down, devastating in the force you use, your eyes on the freeze of Horacio’s muscles as his mouth opens in a silent wail.

He quivers with every rope of come that paints your walls, too exhausted to make any sounds as he shivers against you. Gently, you push him down against the sheets, his cock still twitching his release in you when you kiss his forehead and cheeks.

It seems like an age before he stops coming, he pulls out from you slowly, a soft sound in his throat as he feels the mix of your cum slide out of you. You twist out of his weak hold to get a wet towel, much to Horacio’s displeasure, and return to wipe away the mess you left on his body, keeping your hands gentle on his pliant form.

When you’re done, you look up to see him blinking at you as he struggles to stay awake, waiting for you to lie next to him before succumbing to sleep.

He pillows his head on your chest and winds his arms around your waist when he mumbles, “I’m sorry, _carino_.”

“Shhh, _mi amor_ , I know. It’s okay.” You whisper back, carding your fingers through the soft hair at his nape.

**Author's Note:**

> come over to tumblr, i'm awful at posting here :")


End file.
